


(the perks of) separation anxiety

by duets



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duets/pseuds/duets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>joonmyun is going to the army soon. kyungsoo deals with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(the perks of) separation anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on lj in march 2013.
> 
> (eta: tweaked in 2016)

 

 

 

They are waiting for traffic to clear, crumpled together in a van on their way to a radio show recording, when Joonmyun says, without even turning on his seat to look at them, only the curve of his shoulder visible: “I’m leaving in a couple of months.”

Kyungsoo drops his hands from where he’d been trying to fix Sehun’s fringe, squares his shoulders so quickly his bones hurt a little, muscles suddenly tense.

It’s nothing but the sound of the engine and the muffled bass coming out of Chanyeol’s forgotten headphones until someone croaks out a “What?” small and startled. Kyungsoo isn’t sure if it is Jongin or himself or maybe all five of them at once.

“It’s going to be fine,” Joonmyun replies, voice toneless, perfectly friendly. Kyungsoo spares himself a moment to roll his eyes, bites back a _no shit._

Traffic picks up a couple of minutes afterwards and Kyungsoo entertains himself by glaring at the back of Joonmyun’s seat for the rest of the ride. That, at least, is familiar.

 

 

 

“So, I just…” Joonmyun tries, struggling to get his sweater off, hurrying after the producers had given them a few minutes to drop their things somewhere. “I thought that we could,” he tries again, cutting himself off with a nervous laugh, left arm hanging half out of his collar somehow.

Kyungsoo eyes him for a while, that embarrassment of a human being, then reaches out and pulls Joonmyun’s sweater up until his arm is no longer dangling and the wool is covering his face. “Not now.”

Kyungsoo thinks he hears Joonmyun mumble a _When then,_ but he doesn’t bother answering.

 

 

 

If Joonmyun really thought it was going to be _fine_ he would have told them at the dorms, wouldn’t have chosen the most neutral ground possible at six on a Monday. He would have goddamn looked at them while delivering the news, hugged them without even asking first. He would have done something embarrassing and heartfelt and he would have teared up, and then they could all move on.

Kyungsoo straightens himself on his chair after the stylist noona has finished covering the circles under his eyes, searches for Baekhyun’s face across the room to mouth an accusatory _You knew it_ at him.

Being the last to know something about Joonmyun is not something Kyungsoo is used to.

Kyungsoo frowns, surprised, when he catches only confusion in Baekhyun’s expression. He tries again: _Lu Han?_ and Baekhyun replies, voice a bit raspy from the hour and remnants of the cold he had caught from Jongdae last month, “Kris? Because Chanyeol knew before we did. Minseok hyung, too, probably.”

Kyungsoo makes a point to accidentally elbow Joonmyun in the ribs when they’re posing for the official photographs. Joonmyun looks at him with his eyebrows furrowed after the photographer leaves, stares pointedly as if expecting Kyungsoo to explain it. Kyungsoo just shrugs.

Joonmyun sighs, moves to grab for Kyungsoo’s wrist only to retreat a second later, understanding Kyungsoo’s downturned mouth. “ _Still_ , really?” he says, brows furrowed again, voice soft and reprehending, like Kyungsoo’s got no reason to be elbowing people whenever he damn well pleases, like Kyungsoo can’t ignore his hyungs with no reason whenever he damn well feels like it.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” Joonmyun asks, full on nagging leader mode, tone dismissive and persuasive all at once, something he’d learnt way back from Chanyeol’s sister.

Kyungsoo looks down and eyes the sweater Joonmyun is wearing, the one he tried to friendly suffocate Joonmyun with earlier. A sweater which was _his_ until just this morning, which was folded neatly inside his closet just last night, which now smells like whatever Nature Republic thing Joonmyun’s been trying lately.

Kyungsoo swallows, looks back at Joonmyun and pretends not to notice how Joonmyun is angling himself away as if expecting a blow to come at any minute.

“Whatever,” Kyungsoo says, and Joonmyun flinches. That, too, is familiar.

 

 

 

Predictably enough, Jongin corners him in the bathroom later.

“So,” he says after closing the door behind him, awkward like he always is when he wants to talk to you about something he knows you need to talk about but don’t want to.

He's fidgeting but with his jaw is squared, eyebrows furrowed with determination. _Cute_ , Kyungsoo thinks, and tries to repress a toothpaste-y smile.

“So, about hyung,” Jongin tries, scratching behind his ear, ancient cotton shirt riding up to show skin.

Kyungsoo turns back to the sink and continues to brush his teeth. He thinks about teasing Jongin for drawing the shortest straw and ending up being the unlucky one who has to confront Kyungsoo about his feelings.

“Stop ignoring the thing," Jongin says, catching Kyungsoo's eyes in the mirror. He sounds like his mother.

Kyungsoo rinses his mouth slowly, chokes back a snort.

“He asked all of us to come to the kitchen to talk and you ignored him, hyung.”

Kyungsoo considers flossing just to piss Jongin off and keep him hanging, but then:

“You _never_ ignore him like that, hyung.”

Which. Yeah.

Not like  _that._

Kyungsoo turns to look at Jongin. He wants to tell him something along the lines of _it’s not like we didn’t know it was going to happen one day_ and _are you going to do the bathroom speech thing with everyone or are we taking turns_ and _is that Lu Han hyung’s TVXQ shirt_ but what comes out instead is:

“He told us in the van.”

And that makes no sense to him, but apparently it does to Jongin. He gives Kyungsoo a sad little smile, before grabbing his shoulder and leading him silently out of the bathroom and into their shared room.

“Talk,” Jongin commands, getting comfortable in his bed and motioning for Kyungsoo to join him. Kyungsoo does so with a smile, because stern Jongin will always be funny, be it at fifteen or twenty-five.

“Why am I letting you do this, again?” he asks, flicking Jongin in the space between his collarbones.

“Because you’re too tired to complain and I’m an opportunist?” Jongin says, grinning wide, his nose crinkling, almost a smug smirk. He’s got to stop spending so much time with Jongdae. “Also,” he adds, putting his hand to the back of Kyungsoo’s head, left leg hooked around Kyungsoo’s waist and cuddling him closer. “I’m your favourite dongsaeng.”

“You’re my _only_ dongsaeng.”

“There’s Sehun.”

“He’s already got... So many hyungs. He’s a lost cause.”

Jongin snorts, but it isn't long until he turns serious again. “What are you going to do?”

Kyungsoo leans closer, plays with the collar of Jongin's shirt, focuses on the faint sound of his breathing. “Wait for further instructions from the higher ups?” he tries.

Jongin jabs him in the ribs. Kyungsoo yelps, surprised.

"You have  _got_ to stop spending so much time with Jongdae," he says, swatting Jongin's hand away.

Kyungsoo's admonishment goes firmly ignored. “Hyung,” Jongin chides, eyebrows raised pointedly.

Kyungsoo sighs.

He doesn’t even bother telling Jongin to stop being a disrespectful little shit, just closes his eyes and thinks back to Joonmyun grabbing his arm earlier and going _I need you to help me in the kitchen with the others, please?_ His smile half hopeful, half cautious, his lips bitten red.

“What are any of us going to do?” Kyungsoo asks.

Jongin stays silent, hugs Kyungsoo closer.

 

 

 

Kyungsoo finds Sehun dressed in all black at five the next morning, squinting at the turned off television.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, because there is no point in asking what Sehun is _doing,_ not ever.

“Clothes.”

“Black?”

“It’s autumn.”

Kyungsoo lets out a long suffering sigh, sits down next to Sehun on the sofa. “Is this another phase?” Kyungsoo has dealt with at least five phases concerning his dongsaengs in the past six years since debut. He can totally do this.

Sehun continues to stare at the screen. “I’m in black so I’ll suck up as much of hyung’s sunshine personality as possible, before he is gone forever.”

Sehun doesn't _smell_ drunk.

Kyungsoo gapes. “What.”

Sehun gives out a loud snore, eyes still kind of half open.

Kyungsoo gets up and arranges Sehun’s body more comfortably on the cushions.

He's been all flailing limbs and anxiety lately, following Joonmyun around like a newborn duckling. The line had to be drawn at him following Joonmyun into the bathroom, but not before a long drawn argument.

Sehun has been acting like Joonmyun's bodyguard since the news dropped. If bodyguards acted like stray puppies who follow you home in the rain. Kyungsoo has watched from afar, concerned and amused.

There are lines on Sehun's forehead that Kyungsoo is still not used to seeing. He doesn't think Joonmyun is used to seeing them, either.

“This kid, I swear,” Kyungsoo grumbles, taking Sehun’s shoes off. “He won’t be gone forever,” he says, trying to sound reassuring and landing on desperate.

Sehun only snores again in reply.

 

 

 

This is what he doesn’t tell Jongin.

Kyungsoo wants to gather everyone in the kitchen and tell them to stop overreacting.

He wants to point out the important things, the logical ones that will follow up as soon as Joonmyun is drafted: Their schedules will continue to be packed to the point where showering is still half sleeping, the plastic chairs in waiting rooms before variety shows will still feel like the next best thing to an actual bed.

But eventually ceaseless practice that seemed to have no point will bloom into the possibility of subunits and solo endeavors, gratification just around the corner.

Or they will get a break. The second possibility actually scares Kyungsoo more than it does comfort him, and he’s half sure that that isn’t what Joonmyun would want if he had any say in it.

They know all that, though, some of them know it ten times better than him. So Kyungsoo keeps quiet.

"Hyung, are you still asleep?"

There is dried drool in the corner of Joonmyun's mouth. "No?"

Jongin looks incensed. "We're _practicing,_ hyung."

Kyungsoo smiles, watches Joonmyun do a half-assed attempt at stretching, his trademark glorified yawn. Kyungsoo stays silent and watches the way Jongin rolls his eyes in fond embarrassment.

Kyungsoo looks at all of them, and he wants to point out the obvious: Joonmyun will come back, and he won’t be any taller. The way his neck curves when he’s surprised into laughter will still be the same. The curve of his nose will still be different without makeup and under cheap blue lights in 2010 than how it looks now under stage colours translated through a fan’s high range camera.

He will come back and not be any better at cooking than he was before leaving, nor any neater.

“How are you supposed to survive the army if you still can’t even do a proper stretch routine, hyung?”

Sometimes it looks like Joonmyun smiles with his entire body. “Yah! Kim Jongin, I am going to tell your sisters about this.”

“Yeah, Jonginnie, respect the elderly.”

“I am banning all of you from the baidu café of my life. All of you except Sehun.”

Kyungsoo has shared a room with Joonmyun countless times in the past, has woken up with an armful of Joonmyun when they were too tired to go to their respectful beds, Joonmyun’s hair sticking to his mouth.

But when the time came for him to switch to another roommate, the truth is that Kyungsoo didn’t feel particularly bereft of Joonmyun’s presence. He only needed to go out of whichever room he was in at the time and walk into the kitchen to a vision of Joonmyun’s drooling face resting on the dining table, hoodie over his eyes like a shield, making Kyungsoo’s fingers twitch against the frayed cotton of his sweatpants, wanting to touch, to tug somewhere safe.

He'll come back.

Kyungsoo might not have been a trainee for longer than he’s been anything else, but he’s still good at waiting. All of them are.

 

 

 

Jongdae sends him an angry e-mail three days after Joonmyun has told them. Or what passes for anger with Jongdae, anyway.

The subject line is blank, as usual, but instead of thirty attachments and the _excited to be going home 2 ur food dont tell xing~~_ that he expected, Kyungsoo gets a _hes probably all mopey rn but smiling anyway u do something about this TT TT_

Kyungsoo wonders for a second if playing fool would work, then remembers this is Jongdae. Needless to say, Kyungsoo’s _I’m not his keeper_ goes completely ignored.

 

 

 

"Stop ignoring him," Jongdae tells him over the phone.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "No one is ignoring--"

"Kyungsoo." Kyungsoo can hear Yixing in the background, listening in. It's the only reason he doesn't tell Jongdae to go fuck himself.

"You know these calls aren't cheap, right?"

"What are you, a 90's soap opera?" Jongdae laughs. Then he adds: "If you don't want to, I can take care of him."

"No," Kyungsoo says. Yixing gasps dramatically from the other end. Kyungsoo hates to disappoint him, says, voice entirely devoid of emotion. "He can take care of himself."

"I know he can," Jongdae replies, still serious. And isn't this entire conversation just straight out of a bad drama, Kyungsoo thinks. "But he shouldn't always have to."

 

 

 

Management decides they have to do a drama because Kyungsoo’s life is a joke.

“But Leeteuk hyung didn’t have to.”

“You’re not Super Junior?”

“Once someone asked me if I was Hyukjae hyung and I gave them a rude autograph.”

“How can that even-- _Baekhyun_.”

The thing is: Minseok is a better actor than both of them. _Combined,_ as Lu Han so kindly made sure to tell everyone, cackling like a hyena, the second manager hyung had left after pulling them aside to officially announce the thing and completely ignore Kyungsoo’s protests as to why the thing makes no _sense_.

"I hope it's a romantic comedy. Oh my god, I hope Joonmyun _cries._ "

And the _other_ thing is: Lu Han is right.

The _most important_ thing, however, is that Kyungsoo is awful at arguing while under pressure, especially when given responsibilities. So he mumbles a yes, and Joonmyun moves to give him a _hug_.

Kyungsoo is the one who flinches this time, out of surprise more than anything else, really, and his stomach drops at the way Joonmyun’s mouth pulls down, how he looks almost _disappointed_ for a second, before recovering and calling everyone out to celebrate, takeout’s on him.

“Do I get a whole chicken just for me, hyung?” Jongdae asks, grinning Kyungsoo's way. Predictably enough, Joonmyun goes _anything for you, Jongdae-ah._ Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.

“You look like you might throw up any time,” Jongin supplies after the rest of them have left the room and politely removed their laughter to the kitchen.

Kyungsoo thinks that the fact that they even bothered to leave is huge progress, food bribe or not. Three years ago, Lu Han would probably still be sneezing from contained mirth on the ground.

Jongin tries again. “Seriously, hyung, you’re kind of green. Are you turning into the Hulk?”

Kyungsoo glares at him, then splays himself all over his lap. “Whatever. I don’t want to talk. Mess with my hair.” Jongin rolls his eyes, but does it anyway. Because Jongin is the only decent human being in this group.

Kyungsoo doesn’t know how to deny people anything when they put their expectations on him, finds it hard to say no when he’s presented with a challenge, with an opportunity. That’s why he did the films, the dramas, why he was more elated than scared when they debuted. Kyungsoo isn’t good at not working, so he deals with that by complaining while doing his job.

And Joonmyun is Joonmyun.

 

 

 

“You’re going to be just fine,” Yixing tells him, arm brushing against Kyungsoo’s while they’re helping each other do the dishes. “Two years make the heart grow fonder, the hyungs seem less embarrassing.”

Kyungsoo looks to his left, watches Yixing dimple, which prompts a smile of his own, without his consent. “Aren’t you all collarbones and wisdom today.”

“Comes with the amazing bone structure, yes,” Yixing says, passing a plate for Kyungsoo to dry.

“The only reason I don’t trade Joonmyun for you is because you come with a Lu Han attached, you know that, right?”

“Ours is an impossible love.”

Kyungsoo puts the plate on top of the others on the counter. “Leave Lu Han hyung behind, come with me to Jeju.”

Yixing's eyes crinkle. “He’d die of loneliness.”

Lu Han shouts from the living room, “I heard that!” Kyungsoo is not surprised.

“No you didn’t!” Yixing shouts back. “Go bother Minseok.”

Lu Han walks by, smiling, and flips Yixing the finger, who in turn blows Lu Han a kiss.

“As long as he doesn’t come back trying to teach us the merits of military self-discipline like Leeteuk did, I guess,” Kyungsoo says after a while, inspecting his reflection on a spoon.

“ _Discipline?”_ Yixing snorts. “Have you _met_  Joonmyun?”

Kyungsoo feels a weird need to defend Joonmyun. “He’s not as bad as Yifan hyung.”

Yixing grins. “My loyalty to duizhang forces me to ask you to please cease with your senseless criticisms, or I will have to kill you with this pan.”

Kyungsoo double takes, more at the defending Yifan part than the murder threat one, then laughs so hard he almost stabs himself with a fork.

“Plus, he’s yours," Yixing continues, rinsing his hands. "You’re going to be fine.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t ask _whose_ exactly Joonmyun is in this context, just smiles and allows Yixing to have the last word. He doesn’t argue against it either, though.

 

 

 

Kyungsoo gets up at one in the morning to go to the bathroom and stops on his way back to his room when he hears movement in the kitchen. He knows who it is just by the way they're trying not to make any noise and failing at it.

He walks slowly, stops by the threshold: Joonmyun is cooking, or at least _trying_ to cook, old instant ramyun, without much success.

"Is this chicken? Or is it plain? Is plain ramyun chicken flavoured?"

Kyungsoo stands by, unnoticed, and watches Joonmyun for a while. The tired curve of his shoulders, the way he’s got to have one hand clutched to the counter beside the stove to keep himself upright, mumbling nonsense under his breath while waiting for the water to boil.

Kyungsoo’s mind goes back to how many times this same scene has been repeated in the past years, rewinds to the amount of times he’s seen Joonmyun pretend he wasn’t just as exhausted as the rest of them, grinning and offering to cook Kyungsoo something when he couldn’t even keep his own eyes open.

Kyungsoo’s mind is a treacherous place, has him moving out of instinct and grabbing the wooden spoon out of Joonmyun’s hand in a second, startling both of them.

“You’ll set the dorms on fire one day, I swear,” Kyungsoo says in lieu of striking up conversation, pretending he hadn’t been giving Joonmyun the literal cold shoulder the entire week.

Joonmyun looks at Kyungsoo for a second, expression unreadable, then moves to stand behind him, arms circled tight around Kyungsoo’s waist, slumping a bit until his chin is resting warmly on Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

“Can I?” he asks, words small and without flourishes, his home voice. “Are we okay?”

Kyungsoo keeps stirring the now mostly salvageable ramyun. “When were we ever not?” he answers, tone blank, trying for casual.

He feels more than hears Joonmyun’s chuckle, his lips moving ticklish against the skin of Kyungsoo’s neck. “I could think of a few times.”

Kyungsoo considers smacking Joonmyun up with the spoon, then remembers the food. He settles for reaching with his free hand to pull Joonmyun closer. “Idiot.”

 

 

 

The plot of the drama revolves around two friends who got estranged after high school and who are now reunited by means of superior forces. Meaning: Kyungsoo’s character accidentally gets mixed with some mafia thugs, only to later find out that their boss is Joonmyun, his old neighbourhood dongsaeng.

“You aren’t good at seething and looking menacing, hyung,” Kyungsoo says, and even without looking up from the script he knows Joonmyun has started pouting. He points in the general direction of Joonmyun’s broken ego.

“That, though. That you’re good at.”

 

 

 

On episode three, the one where Kyungsoo is tied to a chair and Joonmyun is scowling at him in a suit that compliments his figure in a way that is more preppy Gangnam store ad than it is mafia boss with a grudge, the director sunbae asks for Joonmyun to stand as close to Kyungsoo’s face as possible.

Joonmyun is nothing if not eagerly obedient, and it doesn't take long for him to get in character, to start delivering his half menacing, half hurt lines, voice lower than his usual, all business. He moves, lips caught in a scowl, and his nose brushes Kyungsoo’s, breath brushing hot over Kyungsoo’s mouth.

“Do I look the same to you?” he whispers.

And Kyungsoo cackles madly, fucks up the take, ng's like he hadn't done since those terrible post debut days. He fucks up and doesn't care, because Joonmyun’s mouth was _way_ too close to his, and he would rather be doing an _Stairway to Heaven_ remake with Chanyeol than be tied up to a chair while having to watch Joonmyun call him _hyung_.

Joonmyun smiles, eyes and all, when Kyungsoo says that aloud, breaks the character shell as quick as he had stepped into it. “Disrespectful brat,” he mumbles conspiratorially to the giggling coordinoona, and Kyungsoo tries to force his eyes not to linger on the way Joonmyun bites his lower lip to keep himself from laughing.

 

 

 

Kyungsoo is trying to read.

“Are you and hyung going to kiss in the next episode?”

“Kim Jongin, get out of my room.”

“But the internet wants to know, hyung!”

He doesn’t even bother looking up. “Out of my room.”

“It’s my room, too!”

“I’m divorcing you and keeping it. Out.”

He tosses his book at Jongin for good measure, misses by a good two feet. Jongin waves at him and leaves, laughing. Kyungsoo gets up to retrieve his book from where it had fallen near a pile of Jongin's dirty hoodies, opens it and doesn’t think about what Jongin said.

Kyungsoo goes back to the page he'd been on before, ends up reading the same sentence five times and not understanding a word. Kyungsoo focuses on his goddamn book and doesn’t think about what Jongin said.

 

 

 

Two weeks into filming, Joonmyun gets a twitter account and is unsurprisingly a failure at using it. Kyungsoo is doing the laundry when he overhears him complaining to Yifan about how he’s got no idea why he’d have to be verified to be seen as legit.

“Is this even a good idea, I mean, I spent so long without needing to have one? Am I just pulling a Heechul?” A pause, then an outraged gasp. “Are you making fun of me in English, Wu Yifan?”

Kyungsoo starts suspecting Joonmyun is the result of Lee Sooman going all evil scientist and tweaking around with the DNA of a particularly intelligent rabbit.

Baekhyun barges into Kyungsoo’s room cackling later that afternoon, wearing only his boxers because all his clothes had gone to wash.

That alone, the utter disregard for proper clothing, already told Kyungsoo that what was coming was very juicy gossip.

Baekyun slams the door open, phone in hand. Turns out he's on a mission to show Kyungsoo what ridiculous photo Joonmyun had chosen to be his default image.

It’s a predebut picture of Joonmyun and Kyungsoo at some cheap gogigui place in Hongdae, the week when Joonmyun had got some early birthday money from his parents and decided to treat Kyungsoo to cheap soft drinks and as much samgyeopsal as he could eat. All because Kyungsoo looked _lonely_.

In the picture Joonmyun has his arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulder and Kyungsoo isn’t shrugging him off.

 

 

 

“How come my character is infatuated with yours if I am the hyung?”  
  
Joonmyun stops drawing circles on the inside of Kyungsoo's ankle, takes off his glasses. “My natural mysterious dongsaeng charisma?” 

He sounds so smug. That cannot stand.  
  
“Your first role was as one of Santa’s  _elves._ ”  
  
Joonmyun slaps him on the stomach. “Oh, sorry, mighty cute one. Were you jealous I stole the role that was rightfully yours?”  
  
Kyungsoo smiles fondly at the idiot, then sits up and lurches, manages without much effort to make Joonmyun fall out of bed.  
  
“Call me hyung,” he demands, tackling Joonmyun to the ground. Joonmyun squirms, laughs uncontrollably.  
  
“In your dreams, tiny one.”  
  
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, flicks Joonmyun on the nose, reaches out to pin Joonmyun’s hands so he won’t be able to get away. “We’re the same height. Call me hyung.”  
  
“Kill me first.”  
  
“Well, if you insist,” Kyungsoo says, matter of fact, letting go of Joonmyun’s wrists so he can proceed to try to bite Joonmyun’s ear off.  
  
“This is clear insubordination!” Joonmyun squeals. Kyungsoo nods, agreeing, then goes for it again. He's happy. Ends up forgetting to bare his teeth. Forgets where they are, ends up kissing Joonmyun’s temple instead.  
  
Joonmyun stills under his hands, unblinking.

Kyungsoo has half his mind on running away, half on apologising, but instead he breathes in, gets closer to Joonmyun’s flushed face and kisses the space between his eyebrows, then does it again.

He hears Joonmyun’s breath hitch, takes it as a cue to get even closer. Kyungsoo puts his lips to Joonmyun’s forehead, careful, leans back and watches Joonmyun staring at him, eyebrows furrowed into something Kyungsoo doesn't know how to name.

Kyungsoo reaches over to smooth the frown away, watches Joonmyun’s eyes close, his hand reaching out to touch the hollow between Kyungsoo's collarbones: Permission.

Kyungsoo swallows, throat suddenly very dry, moves back and kisses the space where Joonmyun's jaw meets his ear, mouths softly at the skin there, feels the heat of Joonmyun’s hands under his shirt, Joonmyun’s thigh moving slowly to settle between his legs.  
  
Joonmyun is leaving by the end of next month.  
  
Kyungsoo closes his eyes, kisses Joonmyun’s neck, feels his pulse quicken. Does it again.

 

 

 

  
They kill Joonmyun’s character off on episode thirteen, and Kyungsoo is predictably unimpressed when, after some ten minutes of annoyed searching, he finally finds Joonmyun curled into a ball on Baekhyun’s bed, eyes red and a copy of the script clutched to his chest.

Kyungsoo gets closer, pries the papers from Joonmyun’s fingers with an exasperated sigh and waits the required five minutes for his hyung to compose himself.  
  
"You big baby."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
When Kyungsoo was seventeen and still somewhat towering over Sehun, he used to be petrified at the idea of seeing Joonmyun cry, of being helpless while he broke down.

Now he’s more or less become indifferent to the tears—and unless they’re in public and Joonmyun gets teary eyed at how grown up Jongin is or something equally ridiculous, when the laughter starts bubbling up without warning and Kyungsoo has to run away from Joonmyun’s cries of  _disrespectful brat._

Now, unless there is a crowd and a camera, Kyungsoo stays silent, waits until they're home and he can tease Joonmyun about it for hours.  
  
"Move."  
  
"No."  
  
"Know who's less of a giant baby than you? Jongin's three year old niece."  
  
There are also the times that Kyungsoo always tries not to think about.

The days when all of their schedules are so packed that his ankle starts working up again at choreo practice, smarting in a way obvious enough that Joonmyun stops dancing instantly, fussing even more than usual, eyes wide and breath coming ragged.

When those things happen, and after Joonmyun has made him sit down and take a ridiculous amount of painkillers, Kyungsoo goes hopping around the room and grabs them both one bottle of ice cold water, the bubbly type so Joonmyun’s mouth will tickle and he’ll smile again, moving close, fingers touching Kyungsoo’s.

Now, he rolls his eyes at Joonmyun’s silliness, pesters him until he gets up (not without protesting first, loudly) and agrees to go wash up.  
  
“I die for you, the least you could do is be thankful,” Joonmyun calls from the bathroom.  
  
“Thank you for dying for me, hyung. Don’t try it at home, though, it might stain the carpet.”  
  
“Brat,” Joonmyun says when he comes back, hair sticking up, flicking water at Kyungsoo’s face.

"It'd be a pain to clean."

"Brat."  
  
“I’ll send you a fruit basket?” Kyungsoo teases, blinking the droplets out of his eyes, and Joonmyun jumps at him, latches on like a leech or an overgrown dog or a sleepy Jongin. “Two fruit baskets?” He kisses Kyungsoo’s neck, his nose. “Two fruit baskets and chicken and a shoutout on Sukira?” Kyungsoo tries again, earns himself a mumble of agreement and a nuzzle.  
  
Kyungsoo is still wary of a crying Joonmyun, as much as he’s wary of unknown faces offering him drinks from a crowd, of Jongin refusing to dance. He still holds himself guarded for a time when Joonmyun will break and none of them will be able to pick up the pieces.

Meanwhile, though, Kyungsoo does what he knows best: bickers and goes over the script with Joonmyun sprawled all over him, their bodies forming a misshapen x, reading aloud until both their minds are filled with mindless chatter, artificial fictional feelings.

 

 

  
They are all together in the living room for once, Chanyeol’s head on Baekhyun’s lap while he argues with Joonmyun over everyone dyeing their hair pink for their next concept. Kyungsoo watches all of them from where he’s sitting between Jongin’s legs, occasionally getting thumped by a game controller when Jongin tries to knock Sehun and, consequently, Sehun’s character to a gruesome death.  
  
“You're clearly cheating somehow,” Jongin says, teeth gritted, eyes glinting like he’s a cartoon villain.

“There is no mystery to true masterful skills” Sehun deadpans and Jongin growls.

Joonmyun turns to look at the commotion then, smiles fondly when Jongin lurches forward to try and strangle Sehun with the controller cord. Kyungsoo ends up sprawled on the floor, smiling despite himself. If he closes his eyes it’s like all of them are just out of debut again. Except for how his joints are smarting from lying on the ground.

"Stop trying to kill Sehun with the controller, Jongin."

"He started it."

"How did I start it, you bastard?"

"By being born!"

Kyungsoo knows they can’t keep Joonmyun around forever through sheer force of their combined stubborn conviction. It doesn’t stop any of the five from trying, though.

 

 

  
  
As the last day of filming nears, Joonmyun starts to sleep less and talk more, can be found between photoshoots talking to Lu Han on the phone in hurried, tired whispers, then smiling tightly, resigned.

And Kyungsoo knows, easy like he knows the password to Yixing's phone, that none of those things are exactly out of character for Joonmyun, especially not when responsibility is involved, especially not when it reaches the heights it has in the past months.  
  
Kyungsoo is not worried, despite what Jongin says at night when his fingers comb soft through Kyungsoo’s hair, careful like everything Jongin’s body does, but not any less judging.

Kyungsoo is not worried, not really, but he is preoccupied, keeps catching himself obsessing over how no one seems to notice how much thinner Joonmyun’s got, how his laughter is back to the calculated tilt it had when they debuted.

Kyungsoo doesn’t wish for much, not since Yixing had hit a hospital bed for months on end, not since he found Jongin alone and homesick and hurt into stillness for days. Kyungsoo doesn’t wish for much, not often anyway, but sometimes he wonders if it would be a betrayal or a kindness to wish for Joonmyun not to have to always smile so much.  


 

  
  
Kyungsoo is singing along to some slow 2PM ballad while Jongin dances, his back to the non mirrored wall, when Joonmyun comes in and sits next to him. Kyungsoo glances to his side, sees Joonmyun’s dumb plaid shirt and is offended at how fond he feels.  
  
“Don’t bother me now,” he says, and tries not to look at Joonmyun again so he won’t see Joonmyun smile.  
  
“I didn’t even say anything,” Joonmyun goes, hand to his chest, mock offended.  
  
Kyungsoo thinks he hears Jongin snort.  
  
“Go pester Jongdae about it. He’s fonder of you than I will ever be.”  
  
Joonmyun nudges Kyungsoo’s ankle with his. “Jongdae is miles and miles away right now.”  
  
“Glad to know I’m second option, then.” Joonmyun nudges him again, giggles. “Wow, hyung, always making us feel so valued.” Jongin full on laughs at that, and Kyungsoo catches him almost missing a step from the corner of his eye.  
  
“So cute,” Joonmyun says, and Kyungsoo would murder him if he weren’t so comfortable where he is, hand brushing Joonmyun’s.  
  
The song ends and Joonmyun links their hands, plants a noisy kiss to Kyungsoo’s chin, for no reason whatsoever. 

“Disgusting,” Kyungsoo says and catches Jongin’s happy expression in the mirror, flushes when he sees his own tiny fond smile, the way Joonmyun’s body is angled all towards his.  


 

  
  
Kyungsoo isn’t sure what exactly he says at the fanmeet, barely registers any of the fans’ questions. His mind keeps going back to earlier this morning, his legs tangled with Joonmyun’s, biting hard on Joonmyun’s collarbone, leaving a bruise that is now covered by the collar of Joonmyun’s dress shirt and a band-aid.  
  
Kyungsoo’s mind goes back to Joonmyun’s mouth on his chest, his stomach, his own voice hoarser than he'd ever heard it, nudging Joonmyun impatiently to go lower.  
  
They bow to then fans, smiling and letting out their usual greeting at them, sounding like kids. Kyungsoo snaps out of it when he feels Joonmyun’s arm around his shoulder, looks at Joonmyun and sees his eyes shining with unshed tears, the dumbass. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, reaches over to put his hand to the small of Joonmyun’s back.  
  
They’ll be fine.  
  


 

  
Jongin is suspiciously missing from their room the night before Joonmyun’s scheduled to leave. Kyungsoo eyes, equal parts unimpressed and endeared, the Joonmyun shaped lump curled like a cat in his bed, shirtless and pretending to be asleep.  
  
“Yah,” he whispers, propping himself up in the bed and straddling Joonmyun, hand to Joonmyun’s chest. “I know you’re not actually sleeping.”

Joonmyun smiles, mouth curling softly.  
  
“Maybe I sleep talk.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.  
  
“Stop stealing traits from other hyungs, have some originality.”  
  
Joonmyun opens one eye then, gives Kyungsoo a lopsided smile. “Ah, caught me." Kyungsoo can feel himself smiling despite himself. "Sorry? Let this unoriginal hyung stay the night?”  
  
Kyungsoo thinks for a bit, shocked that the first thing he thought of replying with was  _why don’t you stay forever, you ass._  
  
Before Joonmyun can go second guessing, though, Kyungsoo nods, lets himself slip out slowly from his straddling position until he’s lying down on top of Joonmyun, chin to his chest. “Not sure if Jongin would approve.”  
  
Joonmyun reaches out to comb Kyungsoo’s bangs out of his eyes. “I heard you got divorced.”  
  
“Does that make you the rebound, then?”  
  
Joonmyun grins so wide Kyungsoo wants to punch him in the mouth. “I’ll take whatever I can get,” he says, flipping them over, and Kyungsoo misses him already.  


 

  
  
It’s four in the morning and he’s got Joonmyun pressed to the bathroom door, fingers digging into Joonmyun’s hair, trying to memorise the feeling of it for when it isn’t around anymore, cut short and with its owner someplace that isn’t within reach of Kyungsoo’s hands, his mouth.  
  
“I just wanted to brush my teeth,” Joonmyun whispers, breathless and giddy, when Kyungsoo starts kissing the side of his neck.  
  
“Shut up, you’re the one who woke me up with your fumbling about.”  
  
Joonmyun smells like Kyungsoo’s bed, and Kyungsoo likes him like this, unshaved and with his hair sticking out, ears pink.  
  
Kyungsoo gets his hand inside Joonmyun’s sweatpants ( _his_ sweatpants), strokes him slow and good, hears Joonmyun let out a soft moan and smiles to himself, grinds against Joonmyun until he curses and leans in, changes their positions so it’s Kyungsoo pressed to the door this time, his legs curled lazily around Joonmyun’s waist. Joonmyun gets them both in his hands, kisses and kisses Kyungsoo without ever seeming to get to his mouth.  
  
“Stop making me always give you what you want,” Joonmyun says afterwards, trying for annoyed but dimpling, and Kyungsoo bites on his lower lip to stifle a laugh, helps him clean up.  
  
When they get to bed again, Kyungsoo noses at Joonmyun’s neck, breathes in. Joonmyun smells like Kyungsoo’s bed, skin flushed all over, red where Kyungsoo’s lips had touched it. Joonmyun reaches behind to catch Kyungsoo’s hand, mumbles a soft good night before drifting off, and Kyungsoo smiles, space between his ribs hurting.  


 

  
  
The first year and a half goes like this: Kyungsoo keeps turning around at random moments to nudge Joonmyun and show him something, only to realise he’s not there.  


 

  
  
The last six months go like this: Joonmyun sends them innumerous letters, describes everything in careful detail, from the colour his superior officer face gets when he’s angry to how the bed feels when he goes to sleep.  
  
_It’s almost like being a trainee again, I’m always so tired TT_TT_ he says, and then adds,  _but the people are kind to me and aren’t constantly asking me to buy them bubble tea, not that I don’t occasionally miss that, Sehun-ah~._  
  
Joonmyun tells them his roommate is as tall as Yifan, with a weird sense of humour that reminds him of his brother. He congratulates the five of them on doing so well on their solo projects, asks after Jongin’s dogs, Baekhyun’s voice.

He orders Chanyeol to behave, lists fifteen different types of things he shouldn’t do without supervision, other five he shouldn’t do under any circumstances.  _Now I’m going to scold you. I don’t know if you’ve done anything wrong, but precaution never killed anyone._  
  
Joonmyun is a grown man who still uses way too many emoji and who adds post-it notes to his letters with tiny bits of encouragement to each of them.  
  
_Eat your vegetables, Soo-ah, and maybe you’ll grow so much your arms will be able to reach hyung out here ^^_  
  
and  
  
_Keep practicing hard, Soo-ah! Hyung tells everyone about how wonderful your voice is. Practice makes perfect even more perfect!~_ ♡

and  
  
_I saw a piglet and it reminded me of you (I miss you) (more than I miss ddeokbokki)_

 

 

  
  
  
  
When Joonmyun comes back his hair is shorter than any of them had ever seen it, ever imagined it could get, making his eyes look more expressive somehow, younger. His shoulders look broader and he looks  _healthy_  and Kyungsoo swallows the lump in his throat, says  _fuck it all_ and stares.  
  
When Joonmyun finally gets to them, Jongin is the first one to tackle him, hugs Joonmyun hard and won’t let go or let anyone else get close. Kyungsoo puts his hand over his mouth, tries not to laugh.  
  
“Kim Jongin, does this mean you actually did miss me?”  
  
Kyungsoo thinks he hears Jongin sniffle.  
  
“Shut up, I just got tired of no one ever buying me stuff.”  
  
Joonmyun catches Kyungsoo staring, Jongin nuzzling his neck and listing all the chicken Joonmyun owes him for being away for so long. Joonmyun pats Jongin on the shoulder, then raises an eyebrow at Kyungsoo.  
  
Kyungsoo shrugs.

Joonmyun laughs.

 

 

  
  
  
  
At night they all gather in the living room, Sehun still attached to Joonmyun’s side like an overprotective sloth mother, half asleep, while Baekhyun tells Joonmyun all Chanyeol’s been up to lately, Jongin adding helpful, if a bit overly coloured, details here and there.  
  
“Hey, we are supposed to be best friends!”  
  
“Hyung said he’d buy me stuff if I kept tabs on you.”  
  
“Hyung!”  
  
Joonmyun glares at both of them. “Stop distracting me. How exactly did you manage to set fire to a  _pool_?”  
  
Chanyeol splutters, ego in tatters, and Kyungsoo laughs, walks out to the kitchen to make them some comfort stir fry.

 

 

  
  
  
  
Joonmyun corners him by the fridge.  
  
“Hello,” he says, all shy. The hair makes him look twenty and Kyungsoo can’t wait to watch it grow out again.  
  
Kyungsoo smiles, grabs for the lapel of Joonmyun’s shirt.  “Hi.”

Joonmyun lets him, without any protest. Kyungsoo can't stop looking at him. 

“Are we going to be talking in Jongin speak now?” Joonmyun whispers conspiratorially, leaning closer and closer until Kyungsoo’s back is to the fridge.  
  
“You might say I’m an expert in that, actually. Fluent in the language, almost a native speaker.”  
  
Joonmyun reaches over, brows furrowed, touching carefully around the scar on Kyungsoo’s neck that he had got two weeks ago. “Are you, really?”  
  
Kyungsoo wants to keep him.  
  
“Hey,” he says, and Joonmyun looks up, eyes glazed over, fingers still splayed over Kyungsoo’s neck, thumb touching the curve of his collarbone. “Welcome home.”  
  
Joonmyun nods, almost absentmindedly, puts his other hand to Kyungsoo’s shoulder, leverage. “Yeah,” he says, soft, then kisses Kyungsoo on the mouth.  
  
Kyungsoo really hopes the desperate little whimper didn’t come from him, forgets all about his worry a second later when Joonmyun nudges his mouth open with his tongue. His hands are on Kyungsoo’s face, rough like Kyungsoo didn’t remember them to be, but still gentle, asking for permission.  
  
They break apart after a while, Kyungsoo’s lips tingling.  
  
“Are you going to punch me now?” Joonmyun asks, and it only registers for Kyungsoo because Joonmyun’s lips are so close, enough that Kyungsoo is sure he can taste the words before Joonmyun’s even finished saying them.

“You’re infuriating,” Kyungsoo says, because he’s got to say something and that’s the only thing that filters through when all he seems to be able to focus on right now is the way Joonmyun flicks his tongue out to wet his bottom lip, that inexplicably endearing inherited nervous habit, his jaw sharper than Kyungsoo remembered, his mouth so close, red because of Kyungsoo’s own.  
  
“Infuriating,” Kyungsoo says again, for good measure, and because Joonmyun is smiling all dopey at him. “Really, really infuriating.” He waits for Joonmyun to nod, grabs him by the nape of his neck, kisses him. Then does it again.  
  
  


 

 

 


End file.
